


we can meet in the middle (bodies and souls collide)

by aryasbitch



Series: but you're a king and i'm a lion-heart [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya Stark the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Consensual Underage Sex, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, King Tommen Baratheon, Non-Graphic Smut, Queen Arya Stark, Smut, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, as she should b, its only a few lines, they're both about 16, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24614236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryasbitch/pseuds/aryasbitch
Summary: Arya and Tommen's wedding night
Relationships: Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Tommen Baratheon/Arya Stark
Series: but you're a king and i'm a lion-heart [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749847
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	we can meet in the middle (bodies and souls collide)

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with those lowercase titles  
> title is from "You and I" by PVRIS

Arya’s wedding dress is the heaviest thing she has ever worn in her life. 

It’s pure white, details of grey lace embroidered from the top of the bodice to where it pools at her feet. It's long enough to cover her feet but not long enough for her to trip over the material, thankfully. A thin layer of the same grey lace covers her arms down to her wrists, and trails across her shoulders but leaves the space between her breasts and neck to be uncovered, as well as her neck itself. 

The corset is incredibly tight across her midsection, showing off the smallness of her waist and flare of her hips. Sansa has been allowed to twist her hair into a northern style, as Ayana hadn’t quite gotten the hang of the complications of Northern hairstyles. 

The front sections of her hair have been intricately braided to meet at the back of her head where it's twisted into a complex bun. A few pieces remain framing her face in gentle waves, as does the rest of the hair left out from the braided style. It's grown quite long, a few inches below her breasts, but Arya doesn't mind in the way she certainly would have a few years prior. 

As she looks in the mirror, she can't help but smile at her reflection. She looks beautiful for once. The dress is delicate and elegant, as is her hair. While she _does_ look proper and regal, Arya supposes it's only justified, as she is to be the Queen of the Seven kingdoms soon. 

How she has come to be queen, she isn't quite sure.

Arya looks over to Sansa, huffing without real annoyance at the tears filling her sister's eyes. Sansa pulls her into a quick but tight embrace, and Arya can't help but hold her just as tightly. Despite the fighting that had once occurred between the two, there's no one else she’d rather have at her side at this moment. 

She only wishes Sansa could walk her to Tommen's side during the wedding itself, but that spot has been taken by Lord Tywin, as neither her father or one of her brothers is present. She stops herself before she thinks anymore of her family. Her father is dead, and she hasn't seen Robb or Jon in years. Not to mention Bran or Rickon, who Arya has not heard from since she left for King’s Landing over two years ago.

Sansa pulls back from the embrace, sniffling once before drying off her tears. Ayana pulls the redhead into a quick side embrace, comforting her. Arya is glad the two have become friends, even if Ayana is her handmaiden and Sansa is her sister. 

A few years ago, Sansa would have turned up her nose at the thought of hugging a handmaiden, never mind befriending one, but Sansa has grown tremendously in the past few years, especially with everything that’s happened since she and Arya left Winterfell.

Now, Arya is six and ten, nearly seven and ten, and Sansa is near eight and ten. And they’re embracing moments before Arya is to marry the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

How times have changed.

“You look so beautiful, Arya.” Arya flushes at her sister's words, thanking her quietly before reaching up to brush one last tear from her sister's face.

“Now please stop crying, Sansa. I really can’t cry right now, and I surely will if you continue to.” Sansa laughs but indeed does stop crying. She pulls back completely from Arya, who turns to look at herself in the mirror one last time before she nods to Sansa and Ayana, and heads to the door.

It’s time.

-

As Tywin guides Arya down the aisle, she keeps her chin raised and her eyes locked on her soon to be husband. Tommen is grinning so largely Arya is sure his face must hurt, but she also knows her face matches his.

At the end of the aisle, Arya places her hand upon Tommen’s outstretched one, and she smiles at the twitch of his fingers, surely refraining from linking their fingers. He helps her step up beside him, the two turning to the Septon in front of them.

Arya barely hears the ceremonial marriage words spoken as cloth is twisted around their joined hands, her face turned forwards but eyes locked on Tommen’s. He continues to grin but looks ahead rather than at her. In time, Arya and Tommen speak together to recite their vows.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.”

“I am his and he is mine. From this day until the end of my days.”

“I am hers and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days.”

Together they finish. “With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

Tommen’s lips upon hers are warm and familiar, and Arya barely hears the cheers around them as she smiles into the kiss. When they turn to the crowd, Arya catches her sister's eye from beside Margaery, the two standing with shoulders pressed together. Perhaps another wedding is sooner than Arya originally thought. 

-

An hour later, Tommen twirls her across the floor, couples all around them dancing as well. The King and Queen have matching grins across their faces, and Arya can't help the laugh that bubbles up as he hoists her up by the hips and spins her in his arms above him. 

Her hands come behind his head as he places her on the ground, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as she pulls his face level to hers and presses her lips to his. 

They continue to dance, spinning and dipping until they have to stop so Tommen can catch his breath. Arya spots her sister spinning with Loras Tyrell a few feet away, and she twirls over to them as Tommen steps back for a drink. Her skirts flare out as she makes their way over to the pair, spinning but with all the grace of a Queen.

Fitting, considering Arya now is the Queen. 

Loras steps back to make room for Arya, who grasps Sansa’s hands and smoothly twirls with her through the sisters’ twin giggles. Any other time they would surely receive looks and chastisement for their unladylike behavior, but neither cares. 

They continue to dance before Arya spots Margaery and pulls her in to take her place, laughing at the blush that blooms across Sansa’s face at the close proximity to the Tyrell. 

Arya practically glides off the dance floor and to her husband's side, plopping into her seat beside him at the head table. She grasps his hand where it rests on his lap instantly, lips curling up with affection as Tommen immediately turns his hand over to entwine their fingers, bringing her hand up to place a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, and another to her fingers.

Arya leans closer as he does so, a gentle smile curving into a smirk as he flushes with gentle desire, her lips meeting his. He releases her hand in order to place his upon her cheek, fingers curling in the lock of hair framing her cheek. 

“I believe it's time for a bedding, no?” Tommen whispers to her as he pulls back, and Arya is only able to nod once before she has to pull him back in for another kiss, desire flooding throughout her body at his words.

The two exit the room gracefully, hand in hand, heads held high and smiles genuinely despite the jeers and claps as they leave. Almost all other weddings include the traditional ceremony of ripping off clothes, but this is the King and Queen. They will not be left bare for anyone to see but each other.

Within moments of Arya closing the door of their room, Tommen is already grabbing for her, pushing her against the wall in order to press deep, needy kisses to her lips. She pulls back for air and he presses his lips to her neck instead, trailing down until reaching the top of her still covered breasts. 

She cannot help her moan, his touch like fire across her skin. Tommen cups one breast in his hand, brushing his thumb against her covered nipple, and her moan only grows in volume. But it is not enough for Arya, she wants the feel of his skin against hers.

Arya bats his hand away from her breast in favor of turning around to bare the ties of her dress to Tommen, who looks concerned at her initial touch but understands soon enough. Shaking hands reach for the dress, unlacing as fast as possible.

It seems to take years, but when it finally drops to the floor and she steps out, she's left in the tight bodice and the smallclothes around her hips. Tommen breath shortens as he takes in what was hidden below her dress: her body, yes, which he glances over with such wanting that Arya nearly blushes, but also two daggers. 

There is one strapped to each thigh, and Arya grins as she unhooks the straps, letting them clatter to the floor. Tommen leads her back to the bed, turning her at the last second so he can untie her bodice. As the final tie comes undone they both seem to slow, all prior lust and frenzy turning to soft adoration for each other. 

Arya turns to her husband, the backs of her knees pressing against the mattress, and Tommen leans down to place a featherlight kiss to her lips. Then her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, until she's laughing and pushing him away so she can pull the loosened corset away from her skin and it falls to the ground. 

She looks up and freezes under his gaze, as his eyes take in her uncovered breasts and naked skin. Tommen brushes a featherlight hand across her breast, delights in the quiet moan that leaves her lips. 

He can't breathe at the sight and noise of her, completely breath taken in her beauty. Tommen falters as she pushes down the smallclothes from her waist, and then she stands before him naked as her name day. 

Tommen is utterly frozen, but Arya only rolls her eyes with gentle fondness and pulls at his own clothing. He grasps the hint soon enough and helps to remove his own smallclothes. Once both are bare, they settle back onto the sheets together, Tommen flat on his back and Arya moving to straddle his hips. 

“Are you sure?” Tommen's voice is light, nervous but full of love.

“Yes. Are you?”

He nods, but hesitates, unsure of how to proceed. He knows Arya must be as lost as he is, but she has always been more comfortable with unfamiliarity than him.

“My mother used to tell me of what a match she could make with me and another lord. I never wanted any of them, and I never used to want to marry or be with anyone. But I love you. I would not have accepted your proposal if I didn't. And now, I want you.” Her words spark a burst of heat deep within him, stronger then he has ever felt before. 

She has told him she loves him before, has many times since his initial confession, but the confidence and causality in which she says it takes his breath away every time. There are a million things Tommen would say, to tell her of how beautiful she is, and thankful to have her, and how much he wants her as well.

But there will be other times to tell her that. There will be years with her, other stolen moments, other nights spent together like this. So, Tommen simply says, “I love you too.” 

Arya smiles down at him, her husband, her King, her lover, and guides his hand to her center.

**Author's Note:**

> [arya's hair based on mary stuart](https://m1.paperblog.com/i/346/3462883/bibliovisual-23-reign-s1-2013--L-xgB3DQ.jpeg)   
>  [arya's hair based on sansa](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/73/52/ce/7352ce476c985d66b64c7c35ee418321.jpg)
> 
> [inspiration for arya's dress, but with grey lace rather than white](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ca/7d/a6/ca7da636596c55d6aec2b456b2933bdc.jpg)


End file.
